Today I found my safe spot.
Have you ever had a safe spot? It’s like in tag, when you map out a safety zone where no one can get you out. Some may call that cheating, but maybe it’s just good strategy. It’s your rendezvous spot, the place where you can pace your breathing, think clearly, and think out your next move.
On Tuesday I found out that my baby had died. Two week s ago I saw his little heart beating on ultrasound now only to witness his absolute stillness. Lance came with me to my 12-week appointment to see our baby for himself, since last time I had used the ultrasound machine at work to sneak a peek. He tried to calm my fears when the Doppler picked up only my heartbeat. But all those fears were confirmed when the doctor announced that our baby looked very small for 12 weeks. Very small.
No blood flow. No heartbeat. Not even a recognizable shape. My baby had died and my body didn’t do anything about it. I felt betrayed. For two weeks at least I had gone on, ignorantly, planning and praying for something that would never get the chance to fulfill the dreams I had created for it.
Maybe it’s my fault. I prayed so hard for my baby just to “hold on,” to stay firmly attached to me in order to continue growing. My body did hold on, even after my baby couldn’t. The literature says that many early miscarriages are a result of chromosomal abnormalities incompatible with life. I guess that’s why my baby didn’t really look like a baby. But even so, I can’t bring myself to think of him as only a bundle of cells or mass of tissue. Because he was mine. Or perhaps even better, Ours. Our creation, Lance’s and mine. Our baby. Our hope. Our chance to work with our Father in Heaven in fashioning the most marvelous gift of all: Life.
On Wednesday I had my first surgery ever. I underwent a procedure called dilation and curettage to clean out my womb. But instead of scraping out my uterus, I feel like they scraped out my heart. It’s strange to know that in just fifteen minutes I went from being pregnant back to my regular self. Nothing special. No need to avoid certain foods or medications, no excuse for weight gain. Just me, in the singular.
I put my baby name book in the closet. My stash of pregnancy information and prenatal vitamins are safely tucked away under the bed. And Lance’s Christmas present to me, a beautiful wooden rocking chair, will stay at his parents’ house for now. I guess that’s the key phrase right there: For now. Because amid the tears and the confusion, the pain and the sorrow, there is peace. There is peace because if we let him, there is someone who will give it to us:
He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.
He telleth the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names.
Great is our Lord, and of great power: his understanding is infinite (Psalm 147:3-5).
If the Savior knows the name of every star in the sky, surely he knows mine. Even if I don’t understand the plan, he does. And because he has felt it himself, he can heal my broken heart and bind up my wounds. And as I have tried to let go of my disappointment and let the Savior aid me, I found my safe spot. The place where I could catch my breath and plan out my next move.
I found it on the couch. As we knelt to pray, Lance wrapped his arms around me and nestled his head against me. And I felt safe. Warm. Like nothing and no one in the world could tag me out. I felt as if the Savior was using my own sweet, dear husband to let me know how much He loves us. I felt, like Lehi, that “… the Lord [had] redeemed my soul from hell… and I am encircled about eternally in the arms of his love” (2 Nephi 1:15). And for the first time in days, I felt peace. It was the point when knowing things would be alright and believing they would became the same. And instead of wondering if I did something wrong, I prefer to think on what Lance said just after our prayer. He said that maybe there was a little spirit up there that so wanted a body, and so wanted to be our baby, that he just couldn’t wait-- even though his body wasn’t meant to last very long. I’m not saying it’s doctrinal, but it is nevertheless a beautiful thought, and one that has brought me comfort.
There will be relapses. There have been already today. And I have no idea how difficult it will be for us to finally get our baby. But it’s going to be okay. One of the greatest challenges of our lives is to learn to trust in our Heavenly Father’s plan. And he has provided even for that, through the gift of his Son. As Elder Nelson said, “Thanks to Him, no condition is hopeless. Thanks to Him, brighter days are ahead, both here and hereafter. Real joy awaits each of us—on the other side of sorrow” (Oct. 2005 General Conference). So here’s to that other side! Through the help of our Savior, may we find it more quickly than we had even hoped.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
7+18=20?
Announcing..... Fifevergnuegen #20!Stats:
ETA: June 7, 2010
EGA: 8 weeks
Sex: Unknown at present
Current size: Approximately .63 inches, .04 ounces (raspberry size)
Hobbies: Swimming, Water Polo
In utero name: Ziggy
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Seeing the Future
This year for the annual Rees Family Halloween Party, Lance and I decided to take a look into our future. It isn't exactly pretty....
A future Grandpa and Grandma Rees?
Settling down with a nice bowl of chili to warm my aching bones...
Great Uncle Lance posing next to the Halloween decorations
My, how quickly fifty years go by... how young we were in that wedding picture in the corner!
The party was a success and everyone had a good time-- even us old geezers.
A future Grandpa and Grandma Rees?
Settling down with a nice bowl of chili to warm my aching bones...
Great Uncle Lance posing next to the Halloween decorations
My, how quickly fifty years go by... how young we were in that wedding picture in the corner!The party was a success and everyone had a good time-- even us old geezers.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Monumental Move
Last Friday we got to witness a monumental move. A true testament to engineering ingenuity. A climax in constructional creativity. And it was about as exciting as watching grass grow.
Ok, so maybe I'm being a little harsh-- especially since Lance was so excited (this is the guy who used to pray for the tractors and other construction equipment as a kid).
And actually, it was really cool. Around 10pm the existing bridge exit for American Fork Main street was closed to traffic so that spectators could watch from it as the new bridge was put into place. This new bridge, weighing in at 4 million pounds, is the largest bridge ever to be moved. Ever. Using some fancy equipment with wheels and a really, really big remote control, half of the bridge (complete with driving surface, guardrails and sidewalk) was inched over both south- and northbound lanes of I-15 to rest over the previously completed pillars. The second half was moved Sunday night. 
It took over three hours just to get it in place. So my comparison to watching grass grow is accurate- they could only move a bit at a time, making frequent stops to make sure nothing had twisted or shifted out of place. It was one of those things where if you stare at it you can't see it moving, but as soon as you look away and then look back, you can tell it isn't where it was before. In between staring across the street and listening in on the familiar awkwardness of a couple on their first or second date standing just behind us, I actually fell asleep for about half an hour. So, when I woke up, it looked like the bridge had actually jumped across the highway instead of crawled.
I think Lance may have stayed there all night, if by midnight I didn't have to go to the bathroom so bad from that free hot chocolate that was no longer keeping me warm. However, we did have a good time, and it's neat to say that we witnessed history in the making.
Ok, so maybe I'm being a little harsh-- especially since Lance was so excited (this is the guy who used to pray for the tractors and other construction equipment as a kid).
And actually, it was really cool. Around 10pm the existing bridge exit for American Fork Main street was closed to traffic so that spectators could watch from it as the new bridge was put into place. This new bridge, weighing in at 4 million pounds, is the largest bridge ever to be moved. Ever. Using some fancy equipment with wheels and a really, really big remote control, half of the bridge (complete with driving surface, guardrails and sidewalk) was inched over both south- and northbound lanes of I-15 to rest over the previously completed pillars. The second half was moved Sunday night. 
It took over three hours just to get it in place. So my comparison to watching grass grow is accurate- they could only move a bit at a time, making frequent stops to make sure nothing had twisted or shifted out of place. It was one of those things where if you stare at it you can't see it moving, but as soon as you look away and then look back, you can tell it isn't where it was before. In between staring across the street and listening in on the familiar awkwardness of a couple on their first or second date standing just behind us, I actually fell asleep for about half an hour. So, when I woke up, it looked like the bridge had actually jumped across the highway instead of crawled.I think Lance may have stayed there all night, if by midnight I didn't have to go to the bathroom so bad from that free hot chocolate that was no longer keeping me warm. However, we did have a good time, and it's neat to say that we witnessed history in the making.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Going Steady
After a year of "floating," I am finally settling down. I just got my permanent schedule for American Fork Hospital. Now instead of taking turns at three different hospitals, I will just go to one and I'll have the same two week rotating schedule until the powers that be decide it needs changing.
Overall, my schedule is pretty good and my manager has a way of making one feel she's getting a deal. I only have to work two nights out of my six rotating shifts, and all the rest are day shifts. Which is lovely-- except for that Sunday. I do have to work every other Sunday, which really stinks, but until people stop having babies I'm afraid someone's got to do it. And one of those "someones" is me. At least for now. The nice thing is that I do have my schedule set now for the rest of the year and the one to come, so it is easier to plan. Not only that, but I can forget about trying to fit in with three different sets of staff, remembering what each hospital does differently than the others, and so forth. What a relief.
My new schedule starts in November and I look forward to leaving the pool and just being able to stay in one place. As a friend of mine once said, "Monogamy is key!"
Overall, my schedule is pretty good and my manager has a way of making one feel she's getting a deal. I only have to work two nights out of my six rotating shifts, and all the rest are day shifts. Which is lovely-- except for that Sunday. I do have to work every other Sunday, which really stinks, but until people stop having babies I'm afraid someone's got to do it. And one of those "someones" is me. At least for now. The nice thing is that I do have my schedule set now for the rest of the year and the one to come, so it is easier to plan. Not only that, but I can forget about trying to fit in with three different sets of staff, remembering what each hospital does differently than the others, and so forth. What a relief.
My new schedule starts in November and I look forward to leaving the pool and just being able to stay in one place. As a friend of mine once said, "Monogamy is key!"
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
The Third Annual Fakesgiving Feast
For those of you who don't know, Fakesgiving is fun-filled, friends-and-family feast which falls on the fourth Sunday of September. As a relatively new holiday, there are still many traditions in the making. However, it always involves good friends, good food, and declarations of what we are all fakesful for. Examples: "I'm fakesful for homework," or, "I'm fakesful I get to wake up at 4:30 am tomorrow," or how about, "I'm fakesful that when I realized I had just enough eggs to make my dessert on Sunday I dropped one on the kitchen floor," etc, etc...
This year, my dear friend Kalli hosted Fakesgiving. She is usually the driving force behind the holiday, mostly because she is the best hostess and the best cook. However, we all bring a little something and simply enjoy each other's company. With all the myriad ways there are to keep in contact with friends these days, it's amazing how seldom I actually do. It's been quite a while since I last saw my Mountainwood buddies so it was fun to catch up on what's new and to remember good times and old jokes. It's funny to think about all the things that have happened since the first Fakesgiving, and what perhaps will happen before the fourth. I guess all holidays are like that-- milemarkers in life that make us look back to see where we've been and to happily anticipate what's coming.
So, three cheers for Fakesgiving! May we all be thankful for it.
This year, my dear friend Kalli hosted Fakesgiving. She is usually the driving force behind the holiday, mostly because she is the best hostess and the best cook. However, we all bring a little something and simply enjoy each other's company. With all the myriad ways there are to keep in contact with friends these days, it's amazing how seldom I actually do. It's been quite a while since I last saw my Mountainwood buddies so it was fun to catch up on what's new and to remember good times and old jokes. It's funny to think about all the things that have happened since the first Fakesgiving, and what perhaps will happen before the fourth. I guess all holidays are like that-- milemarkers in life that make us look back to see where we've been and to happily anticipate what's coming.
So, three cheers for Fakesgiving! May we all be thankful for it.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
The Fatherland and my Mother's Land
Ever since I got home from my mission to Germany at the end of 2006, I've been wanting to go back. Turns out Lance has felt the same way, too. So this year, Lance and I decided to save up our money and go for it, before life gets too complicated. Fortunately, we also got to go to Austria in the same trip and spend some quality time with Mom, Dad, Laynie, and my cute Omi at her home in Graz. Here are a few highlight pictures from our trip:
How we felt when we got there
How we felt when we got there
My cute Omi
Graz
Visiting the salt mines in Salzburg
Die Ruine Goesting above Omi's house
The Freilicht Museum in Stuebingen
Vienna
Dortmund!!
Schloss Nordkirchen
The good old Mission home in Hamburg
Flensburg
Dresden
Waiting for some good eats in Munich
Schloss Lindenhof
The famous Neuschwanstein CastleCan't wait to go back!
Friday, May 29, 2009
Something to Blog About
Lance and I have been serving in the nursery almost as long as we've been married. As a result, neither of us has been to any adult Sunday meetings in almost nine months. Now that I am involved with the Young Women organization and Lance continues as the ward Executive Secretary, we've finally graduated to attending classes where full and complete sentences are the norm. Having Lance return to Elder's Quorum meetings has produced an interesting effect, however. Namely, that he likes to volunteer for everything.
This is not a bad thing. I just find it kind of amusing. And, since Lance signed himself up to help out at the Church-run cannery in Lindon this morning, I decided to come along rather than feel bored and guilty at home, and it proved to be quite an, um, memorable experience.
After washing our hands and donning our plastic aprons and hairnets, we were given a little orientation about safety. There were illustrations to match-- a stick figure straining his back from lifting incorrectly, a pipe blowing hot steam, and hand with four fingers chopped off. We both giggled a little at that last one-- it was quite detailed. Oh, the irony.
Today's fare was pork and beans. The cans came down on a conveyor belt and passed the pork guys (Lance included) who made sure each can got a glob of ground bacon at the bottom. Meanwhile, the beans were washed in the hopper and also took a trip up a conveyor belt, which then dumped them into the machine which filled the cans. The belt under this machine shook wildly back and forth so that the cans filled up evenly. My job came next. The cans then passed under a juice fountain, where they were filled to the brim with a thin sort of tomato sauce before the lids were sealed on. I was to make sure the cans were full, and to keep stray pork and bean bits from clogging up the grate underneath, where the excess juice ran off. It meant that for about three hours I was splattered with hot juice while I stood in a breeze of pure steam. Man, I was so sticky afterward that if you had thrown me on a wall I probably would have stuck to it just like velcro! Although tedious and incredibly noisy, it was neat to watch how the machinery worked and to know that our efforts would bless countless numbers of people.
There were a couple of other jobs as well, including putting the cans in the giant steamer, and then packaging the finished cans into boxes. Then there was the brother behind me who was stuffing bacon into the meat grinder. Can you tell where this story is going?
Everything was fine until I heard the poor guy trying to yell over the tumultuous noise, "It got my finger! It got my finger!" He was clutching his hand tightly and looking desperate. The missionaries rushed him out of the processing area to the hand washing basin and stuck his hand into a pitcher full of ice-- you know, those same clear plastic pitchers they have in every chapel across the country. I turned around and indeed, there at the end where the ground meat came out, I could see the tip of a blue gloved finger amid the greasy chunks of bacon. They took the machine apart to remove it and put it into ice as well.
The police came and while everyone waited for the ambulance, I noticed Lance sit down on some nearby stairs. I went over to talk to him when he rather abruptly got up, ripped off his apron, and disappeared. Turns out the whole ordeal made him rather queasy! Although neither of us really saw any blood or guts, the idea enough was sufficient to make one nauseous. I myself had to concentrate hard not to notice how red the sauce was, and what the dried chunks on my gloves looked like. Lance had to pass the poor guy leaning over the basin in order to make it to the bathroom and almost passed out on the floor. As soon as he thought he was well he came back to man his post, tossing in the greasy, slimy bacon bits... you can guess how helpful that was. He ripped off his second apron and went to lay down in the waiting room until the shift ended, which was about 15 minutes later.
My heart aches for that poor brother. Fortunately at least his finger didn't actually get caught in the actual grinding machinery, where I'm sure it could have yanked in his whole hand. He was pulling out the ground meat at the end and stuck his finger in a little too far, where it got neatly chopped off right below the fingernail by the last rotating blades. The senior missionary next me me leaned over after the ordeal and said, "Well, this is certainly the worst day I've ever had here!" They've had plenty of minor cuts, scrapes, and burns, but no severed appendages. I guess we picked the lucky day to volunteer.
I hope the poor guy is alright. While Lance was outside getting the color back into his face, he heard the man say he had also just lost his job. A trip to the emergency room probably won't help his financial situation. Since we didn't really know him, I don't know how the story ended. We just prayed and hoped, and tried not to barf in the beans.
After our shift was over (and the new girls coming in had pretty wide eyes, having just witnessed the injured man making his way to the ambulance), we were allowed to buy some of the goods we canned for our food storage supply. We bought a case of pork and beans, ohne finger-- although I don't think I'll be able to eat it anytime in the near future.
This is not a bad thing. I just find it kind of amusing. And, since Lance signed himself up to help out at the Church-run cannery in Lindon this morning, I decided to come along rather than feel bored and guilty at home, and it proved to be quite an, um, memorable experience.
After washing our hands and donning our plastic aprons and hairnets, we were given a little orientation about safety. There were illustrations to match-- a stick figure straining his back from lifting incorrectly, a pipe blowing hot steam, and hand with four fingers chopped off. We both giggled a little at that last one-- it was quite detailed. Oh, the irony.
Today's fare was pork and beans. The cans came down on a conveyor belt and passed the pork guys (Lance included) who made sure each can got a glob of ground bacon at the bottom. Meanwhile, the beans were washed in the hopper and also took a trip up a conveyor belt, which then dumped them into the machine which filled the cans. The belt under this machine shook wildly back and forth so that the cans filled up evenly. My job came next. The cans then passed under a juice fountain, where they were filled to the brim with a thin sort of tomato sauce before the lids were sealed on. I was to make sure the cans were full, and to keep stray pork and bean bits from clogging up the grate underneath, where the excess juice ran off. It meant that for about three hours I was splattered with hot juice while I stood in a breeze of pure steam. Man, I was so sticky afterward that if you had thrown me on a wall I probably would have stuck to it just like velcro! Although tedious and incredibly noisy, it was neat to watch how the machinery worked and to know that our efforts would bless countless numbers of people.
There were a couple of other jobs as well, including putting the cans in the giant steamer, and then packaging the finished cans into boxes. Then there was the brother behind me who was stuffing bacon into the meat grinder. Can you tell where this story is going?
Everything was fine until I heard the poor guy trying to yell over the tumultuous noise, "It got my finger! It got my finger!" He was clutching his hand tightly and looking desperate. The missionaries rushed him out of the processing area to the hand washing basin and stuck his hand into a pitcher full of ice-- you know, those same clear plastic pitchers they have in every chapel across the country. I turned around and indeed, there at the end where the ground meat came out, I could see the tip of a blue gloved finger amid the greasy chunks of bacon. They took the machine apart to remove it and put it into ice as well.
The police came and while everyone waited for the ambulance, I noticed Lance sit down on some nearby stairs. I went over to talk to him when he rather abruptly got up, ripped off his apron, and disappeared. Turns out the whole ordeal made him rather queasy! Although neither of us really saw any blood or guts, the idea enough was sufficient to make one nauseous. I myself had to concentrate hard not to notice how red the sauce was, and what the dried chunks on my gloves looked like. Lance had to pass the poor guy leaning over the basin in order to make it to the bathroom and almost passed out on the floor. As soon as he thought he was well he came back to man his post, tossing in the greasy, slimy bacon bits... you can guess how helpful that was. He ripped off his second apron and went to lay down in the waiting room until the shift ended, which was about 15 minutes later.
My heart aches for that poor brother. Fortunately at least his finger didn't actually get caught in the actual grinding machinery, where I'm sure it could have yanked in his whole hand. He was pulling out the ground meat at the end and stuck his finger in a little too far, where it got neatly chopped off right below the fingernail by the last rotating blades. The senior missionary next me me leaned over after the ordeal and said, "Well, this is certainly the worst day I've ever had here!" They've had plenty of minor cuts, scrapes, and burns, but no severed appendages. I guess we picked the lucky day to volunteer.
I hope the poor guy is alright. While Lance was outside getting the color back into his face, he heard the man say he had also just lost his job. A trip to the emergency room probably won't help his financial situation. Since we didn't really know him, I don't know how the story ended. We just prayed and hoped, and tried not to barf in the beans.
After our shift was over (and the new girls coming in had pretty wide eyes, having just witnessed the injured man making his way to the ambulance), we were allowed to buy some of the goods we canned for our food storage supply. We bought a case of pork and beans, ohne finger-- although I don't think I'll be able to eat it anytime in the near future.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Firsts
This Memorial Day was my first Memorial Day as a married woman. Not just any married woman, but a woman who married the one and only truly wonderful Lance Rees, whose family has a huge reunion up at their grandparents' cattle ranch in Morgan, Utah every year. Therefore, it was also my first time at the annual Rees Family Memorial Day Reunion.
We started out the day by visiting the cemetery up in Morgan, where Lance's grandparents, great-grandparents, and others are buried. This was also a first for me, considering that visiting the gravesides of our loved ones on Memorial Day was never a tradition for the Fifes. Nevertheless it was very interesting (and educational, too). After that, we all headed over to the ranch, which is now run by one of Lance's uncles.
Although this was my first participation in the annual family get-together, it wasn't my first time visiting the Ranch. The place is huge, and it's beautiful. There's hills, a spring, a river, a reservoir, acres upon acres of land, and of course, cattle.
We had a huge potluck picnic out on Grandma Rees' old lawn, with lots of games and general merry-making for the all the little ones. 
I was a little nervous at first, knowing there would be about a hundred people there that I didn't know, but it ended up being a wonderful day. The weather was great and the company was, too. And of course, the Rees Family Reunion wouldn't be the Rees Family Reunion without shooting the breeze-- and I don't mean conversation.
Yes, I'm talking about rifles and .22's. Clay pigeons and soda cans. Oh yeah, and some microwaves filled with fertilizer bombs. Of all the "firsts" of the day, I suppose this has to be the most notable: Even I took a few shots, believe it or not!
I have to admit, this is a culture totally foreign to me, and I've never fully understood the draw of hunting. However, I will say that although I did it mostly to make Lance proud of me, it was in fact, enjoyable--mostly because I blasted my first two clay pigeons right outta the sky. And we'll just stop there! I was mostly afraid of knocking out some of my molars, and as anyone one who knows anything about shooting will see how wrong my technique is, I did manage to keep a hold of the gun and only had a mildly sore shoulder the next day.
All in all it was a great day. Hope the weather's just as good next year!
We started out the day by visiting the cemetery up in Morgan, where Lance's grandparents, great-grandparents, and others are buried. This was also a first for me, considering that visiting the gravesides of our loved ones on Memorial Day was never a tradition for the Fifes. Nevertheless it was very interesting (and educational, too). After that, we all headed over to the ranch, which is now run by one of Lance's uncles.
Although this was my first participation in the annual family get-together, it wasn't my first time visiting the Ranch. The place is huge, and it's beautiful. There's hills, a spring, a river, a reservoir, acres upon acres of land, and of course, cattle.
We had a huge potluck picnic out on Grandma Rees' old lawn, with lots of games and general merry-making for the all the little ones. 
I was a little nervous at first, knowing there would be about a hundred people there that I didn't know, but it ended up being a wonderful day. The weather was great and the company was, too. And of course, the Rees Family Reunion wouldn't be the Rees Family Reunion without shooting the breeze-- and I don't mean conversation.
Yes, I'm talking about rifles and .22's. Clay pigeons and soda cans. Oh yeah, and some microwaves filled with fertilizer bombs. Of all the "firsts" of the day, I suppose this has to be the most notable: Even I took a few shots, believe it or not!
I have to admit, this is a culture totally foreign to me, and I've never fully understood the draw of hunting. However, I will say that although I did it mostly to make Lance proud of me, it was in fact, enjoyable--mostly because I blasted my first two clay pigeons right outta the sky. And we'll just stop there! I was mostly afraid of knocking out some of my molars, and as anyone one who knows anything about shooting will see how wrong my technique is, I did manage to keep a hold of the gun and only had a mildly sore shoulder the next day.All in all it was a great day. Hope the weather's just as good next year!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Odds and Ends
I always mean to write more frequently, but somehow I never seem to get around to it. Today I showed up at work only to find out that I wasn't on the schedule, so they sent me home and I went back to sleep. So, with my newly discovered extra time I have decided to update the ol' blog.
I guess a lot of odd things haven't happened, but I do have something to say about an end-- Hansi's rear end, that is. It's fixed! The mechanics at University Collision did a great job of fixing him up and I have to say it is great to have him back. Although I am deeply grateful to Lance's parents for letting us borrow their car for two whole weeks, I felt about forty years older driving around in a Buick Century.
In other news, Lance continues to make good progress on the Chicken Mansion.
Although he has not yet installed the electrical wiring or the hot tub, as you can see the roof is almost completed. We also scratched the tanning bed idea when we were reminded that spending several hours out in the sun on a mildly warm and windy day can cause extensive skin damage for free. I'm still peeling.
Lance shouldn't have all the fun-- I can play with wood, too. I promised Mom a picture of my project and so here it is:
The pieces were already cut out, I just painted them. Of course, with the weather finally warming up I don't think it will be an appropriate decoration for much longer.
In other attempts to beautify our tiny space, we bought a hanging basket which has pretty much exploded outside our door.
If you look in the window you can see Lance's reflection. He has joined a softball league again this year and we have fun going to the Thursday night games- especially when he wins.
And to wrap it up, just a quick mention of our past week. We had lots of fun with our special visitors from Germany, my old companion Becky and her husband (Lance's Golden), Manuel, and their cute baby James. Over the weekend we then got to go down to St. George for my cousin Wilma's wedding. The best part was getting to see Mom and Dad again, but the whole trip was fun. Unfortunately we forgot the camera so I don't have any pictures-- you'll just have to imagine it. And while you are imaging that, you can try to guess what happened to the bag of Amish Friendship bread I left on the counter while we were gone. Oh wait, you don't have to imagine that part. I have a picture.
That's about it. The only other new thing is that I've been called to be the Beehive advisor for the two beehives in our ward. I think it is going to be fun, and it will help me get to know the girls better before camp-- considering that my other ward calling is Assistant Camp Director. We'll see how that goes...
I guess a lot of odd things haven't happened, but I do have something to say about an end-- Hansi's rear end, that is. It's fixed! The mechanics at University Collision did a great job of fixing him up and I have to say it is great to have him back. Although I am deeply grateful to Lance's parents for letting us borrow their car for two whole weeks, I felt about forty years older driving around in a Buick Century.
In other news, Lance continues to make good progress on the Chicken Mansion.
Although he has not yet installed the electrical wiring or the hot tub, as you can see the roof is almost completed. We also scratched the tanning bed idea when we were reminded that spending several hours out in the sun on a mildly warm and windy day can cause extensive skin damage for free. I'm still peeling.Lance shouldn't have all the fun-- I can play with wood, too. I promised Mom a picture of my project and so here it is:
The pieces were already cut out, I just painted them. Of course, with the weather finally warming up I don't think it will be an appropriate decoration for much longer.In other attempts to beautify our tiny space, we bought a hanging basket which has pretty much exploded outside our door.
If you look in the window you can see Lance's reflection. He has joined a softball league again this year and we have fun going to the Thursday night games- especially when he wins.And to wrap it up, just a quick mention of our past week. We had lots of fun with our special visitors from Germany, my old companion Becky and her husband (Lance's Golden), Manuel, and their cute baby James. Over the weekend we then got to go down to St. George for my cousin Wilma's wedding. The best part was getting to see Mom and Dad again, but the whole trip was fun. Unfortunately we forgot the camera so I don't have any pictures-- you'll just have to imagine it. And while you are imaging that, you can try to guess what happened to the bag of Amish Friendship bread I left on the counter while we were gone. Oh wait, you don't have to imagine that part. I have a picture.
That's about it. The only other new thing is that I've been called to be the Beehive advisor for the two beehives in our ward. I think it is going to be fun, and it will help me get to know the girls better before camp-- considering that my other ward calling is Assistant Camp Director. We'll see how that goes...
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Good News and Bad News
Utah Valley Hospital is my least favorite hospital of the three where I work. It's just a bit too big and busy for me-- I really prefer the smaller scale. Night shifts aren't my favorite either, so when I knew I had to work an 18L at UVRMC on Monday, I wasn't thrilled. I really did try not to whine too much (you'll have to ask Lance how effective that resolve was) but I still had to pray for a good attitude before I headed out at 5:30.
Well, it's a good thing Lance bought me that bike for my birthday, because I'm going to be needing it a lot more than I thought. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so I hope the look on my face says it all:
The only good thing about these pictures is that it shows at least how lovely the weather has been lately. Ok, in seriousness the good news is that nobody got hurt. I was stopped, waiting for a car to pass so I could make a left hand turn into the hospital parking lot. The next thing I saw was a huge silver Dodge Durango in my rearview mirror, which suddenly swerved to the right and then smashed me. Turns out she wa
nted to pass me rather than wait for me to turn and misjudged how much room she had (it's a small road). She only lost a bumper. Hansi's whole rear end is maimed. And it all happened the very week that we were in the middle of switching our car insurance. However, it looks like it will all work out ok. And hey-- I didn't end up having to go to work after all! They put me on call and I was kinda shook up the rest of the night. So, to get my mind off of everything, we decided to bust out the Joe Smokey Silver. At least the rest of the evening was nice.
Mmm.... Grilled zucchini!
Well, it's a good thing Lance bought me that bike for my birthday, because I'm going to be needing it a lot more than I thought. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so I hope the look on my face says it all:
The only good thing about these pictures is that it shows at least how lovely the weather has been lately. Ok, in seriousness the good news is that nobody got hurt. I was stopped, waiting for a car to pass so I could make a left hand turn into the hospital parking lot. The next thing I saw was a huge silver Dodge Durango in my rearview mirror, which suddenly swerved to the right and then smashed me. Turns out she wa
nted to pass me rather than wait for me to turn and misjudged how much room she had (it's a small road). She only lost a bumper. Hansi's whole rear end is maimed. And it all happened the very week that we were in the middle of switching our car insurance. However, it looks like it will all work out ok. And hey-- I didn't end up having to go to work after all! They put me on call and I was kinda shook up the rest of the night. So, to get my mind off of everything, we decided to bust out the Joe Smokey Silver. At least the rest of the evening was nice.
Mmm.... Grilled zucchini!
Sunday, March 22, 2009
25 and Counting
For me, birthdays are my business-- every time I go to work it is to celebrate someone's Birth Day. However, there's still something special about one's own birthday. My family still teases me about how I used to let everyone know that "someone" had a special day coming up... sometimes even a month or two in advance. I admit that the excitement is not quite the same as when I was little; I usually don't lie awake in bed on March 19th anymore, for example. Back then the whole day felt, well, different and my heart would beat faster each time I remembered that this was my special day. I guess the day is still magical-- just in different ways. And this year, I had as good a birthday as one can expect at my age :)
2009 means I celebrated my Silver Birthday-- and although I didn't get any silver, I did get something shiny. Lance has a wonderful knack for surprises, and this time he outdid himself. He bought me a beautiful shiny red-black-and-white seven speed cruiser, complete with klingel!
I don't think I've had a bike since my old banana seater back in the early 90's (doesn't that make me sound old?) and until my mission, that was probably the last time I really rode one, too. Lance 
is an avid mountain biker and recently I've wanted something simple just to ride around. I knew Lance was cooking up something when he left to "finish some homework" at school in the afternoon, but I really didn't expect a bicycle. It was a wonderful surprise.
The rest of the day was great, too. Lance had made me breakfast in the morning and while he was gone I had time to finish some work around the house while listening to the lectures on Haydn that Mom lent me. In the evening we went out to eat and then watched a movie at home. It really couldn't get much better. I was also happy to recieve several phone calls and messages from my family and friends. It's nice to know you are loved and remembered on your birthday, even without reminding everyone.
So, thanks to all of you! And now I have just eight months to come up with something really good for Lance's birthday...
Thanks, Sweetheart!
2009 means I celebrated my Silver Birthday-- and although I didn't get any silver, I did get something shiny. Lance has a wonderful knack for surprises, and this time he outdid himself. He bought me a beautiful shiny red-black-and-white seven speed cruiser, complete with klingel!
I don't think I've had a bike since my old banana seater back in the early 90's (doesn't that make me sound old?) and until my mission, that was probably the last time I really rode one, too. Lance 
is an avid mountain biker and recently I've wanted something simple just to ride around. I knew Lance was cooking up something when he left to "finish some homework" at school in the afternoon, but I really didn't expect a bicycle. It was a wonderful surprise.
The rest of the day was great, too. Lance had made me breakfast in the morning and while he was gone I had time to finish some work around the house while listening to the lectures on Haydn that Mom lent me. In the evening we went out to eat and then watched a movie at home. It really couldn't get much better. I was also happy to recieve several phone calls and messages from my family and friends. It's nice to know you are loved and remembered on your birthday, even without reminding everyone.
So, thanks to all of you! And now I have just eight months to come up with something really good for Lance's birthday...Thanks, Sweetheart!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
One Lucky Day
I just lived through the most harrowing shift I've ever experienced in my nursing career, short though it may be.
I was planning on an uneventful night shift at the smallest of the three hospitals where I work, even when I walked in and saw the patient board almost completely full when I arrived at six pm. There were only two laboring patients and the rest were postpartum or post-operative. Hmm, I thought, maybe they will even send me home after my patient delivers, as I am not really trained to do Mother/Baby work... It's almost as if I jinxed myself with overly wishful thinking.
By the time my patient delivered, there was only one room left on the floor for one very lucky person-- who ended up being just that. She came in at about five centimeters, planning an unmedicated delivery for her fourth baby. She was doing awesome-- chatty and upbeat even after her Certified Nurse Midwife broke her water, and man, that was a LOT of water, more than even the midwife had ever seen, she said. I, on the other hand, was starting to get a headache and hoping she would go "complete" soon. Baby looked a little stressed on the monitor as well, and when the midwife came back to do a cervical check, that's when everything went downhill.
The midwife felt the pulsing umbilical cord coming down before the baby's head-- a big fat obstetrical emergency called prolapsed cord. The midwife went to sound the alarm while I was left to push the baby's head up off the cord, which by the way, is very difficult-- pushing baby UP when mom's whole body is working to push baby DOWN. Every nurse on the floor came rushing in to help. Get her in hands and knees position. Get the meds. Call the MD. Set up the OR. Wheel her back! Find baby's heart tones! ( They were in the sixties- normal for baby is at least 120). Prep her tummy! Get in that foley catheter! By this time you could actually see the umbilical cord sticking out. As soon as the mom was safely under general anesthesia (and it's lucky anesthesia was there already instead of being called in from home, which was mostly due to a paperwork glitch), they sliced her open. It was only one or two minutes from cut to delivery. Baby needed immediate resuscitative efforts, but to make a long story short, mom and baby made it.
It was frightening to say the least, but the real effort on my part came after the delivery. General anesthesia is a yucky thing and is only used in obstetrics in real emergencies when an epidural or spinal isn't already placed. I couldn't leave the room until mom was stable and I had to do a lot of nursing care that I've never done before on my own. Not only that, but of course that budding headache exploded and I felt sick to my stomach. All the nerves and the excitement and the fact that I had eaten a grand total of two sandwhiches and a bunch of grapes in the last 24 hours combined to make me feel utterly miserable. When a hematocrit was ordered "stat" I was left completely alone with a butterfly needle and a syringe. Poor mom was so swollen I couldn't even see or feel a vein. That was my lowest point. It was almost three am. I felt sick. I was tired. I was worried for my patient and her baby. And I'm lousy at blood draws! So I just prayed, and poked. And poked. And nothing. I put my head down and was hoping to simply pass out when lo and behold! There was blood in the tube! It was an absolute and complete miracle.
This story is already long and more details would simply be boring. Needless to say, it was an incredibly difficult night. However, there was certainly a lot of luck that St. Patrick's Day morning-- or perhaps better put, a lot of miracles.
I was planning on an uneventful night shift at the smallest of the three hospitals where I work, even when I walked in and saw the patient board almost completely full when I arrived at six pm. There were only two laboring patients and the rest were postpartum or post-operative. Hmm, I thought, maybe they will even send me home after my patient delivers, as I am not really trained to do Mother/Baby work... It's almost as if I jinxed myself with overly wishful thinking.
By the time my patient delivered, there was only one room left on the floor for one very lucky person-- who ended up being just that. She came in at about five centimeters, planning an unmedicated delivery for her fourth baby. She was doing awesome-- chatty and upbeat even after her Certified Nurse Midwife broke her water, and man, that was a LOT of water, more than even the midwife had ever seen, she said. I, on the other hand, was starting to get a headache and hoping she would go "complete" soon. Baby looked a little stressed on the monitor as well, and when the midwife came back to do a cervical check, that's when everything went downhill.
The midwife felt the pulsing umbilical cord coming down before the baby's head-- a big fat obstetrical emergency called prolapsed cord. The midwife went to sound the alarm while I was left to push the baby's head up off the cord, which by the way, is very difficult-- pushing baby UP when mom's whole body is working to push baby DOWN. Every nurse on the floor came rushing in to help. Get her in hands and knees position. Get the meds. Call the MD. Set up the OR. Wheel her back! Find baby's heart tones! ( They were in the sixties- normal for baby is at least 120). Prep her tummy! Get in that foley catheter! By this time you could actually see the umbilical cord sticking out. As soon as the mom was safely under general anesthesia (and it's lucky anesthesia was there already instead of being called in from home, which was mostly due to a paperwork glitch), they sliced her open. It was only one or two minutes from cut to delivery. Baby needed immediate resuscitative efforts, but to make a long story short, mom and baby made it.
It was frightening to say the least, but the real effort on my part came after the delivery. General anesthesia is a yucky thing and is only used in obstetrics in real emergencies when an epidural or spinal isn't already placed. I couldn't leave the room until mom was stable and I had to do a lot of nursing care that I've never done before on my own. Not only that, but of course that budding headache exploded and I felt sick to my stomach. All the nerves and the excitement and the fact that I had eaten a grand total of two sandwhiches and a bunch of grapes in the last 24 hours combined to make me feel utterly miserable. When a hematocrit was ordered "stat" I was left completely alone with a butterfly needle and a syringe. Poor mom was so swollen I couldn't even see or feel a vein. That was my lowest point. It was almost three am. I felt sick. I was tired. I was worried for my patient and her baby. And I'm lousy at blood draws! So I just prayed, and poked. And poked. And nothing. I put my head down and was hoping to simply pass out when lo and behold! There was blood in the tube! It was an absolute and complete miracle.
This story is already long and more details would simply be boring. Needless to say, it was an incredibly difficult night. However, there was certainly a lot of luck that St. Patrick's Day morning-- or perhaps better put, a lot of miracles.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Of Loquacity, Conifers, and Vacuum Cleaners
I have discovered that it is rather difficult to keep up a blog, mostly because I don't believe I have many "post-worthy" moments worth publishing here on my own personal-public journal (there's an oxymoron for you). Some people of course, have the talent of making even ordinary experiences seem quite entertaining simply by they way they retell it. I don't really think I am one of those people, but it won't stop me from posting whenever I feel like doing it. It's funny-- I am actually quite a loquatious person, and in fact I just discovered that in the two years and two months in which I've had my cell phone, I've spent at least 589 hours, 45 minutes and 53 seconds talking on it. However, when it comes to writing, I often draw a blank. Every now and then, though, I try to come up with something.
Today's post came to me this morning while I was cleaning. Now, there are many things I was looking forward to when Lance and I got married. One of them was getting to spend all the holidays together -- especially Christmas, and how much fun it was going to be to decorate our own place in the traditional Yuletide fashion. I was also looking forward to all the fun household things we would get to buy, including my very first, very own vacuum cleaner. It isn't like I love vacuuming or anything, but there was something thrilling to me--perhaps because I have never owned one personally--in the very idea of choosing my own Staubsauger (German, literally "dirt sucker"). Lance and I finally decided on a fire-engine red Dirt Devil upright from the Home Depot.
So our first Christmas together was wonderful and our little apartment looked fabulously festive. After the holidays were over I was so sad to take down all the decorations and to denude our beautiful little Christmas pine tree whom we dubbed "Needles." However, that thoughtful Needles left us a lovely parting gift, namely, all of his needles all over the carpet. But never fear! My trusty dirt devil came to the rescue and I didn't really have a problem cleaning up. But Needles' gift was more far-reaching than any of us would have guessed. Even though there aren't any more needles in the carpet (although I will admit that Needles himself is still sitting outside our doorway), and we've already unloaded all the dust and gunk from our vacuum, every time I've turned on the vacuum cleaner since then the effervescent aroma of pine wafts through the apartment. Now there's a gift that keeps on giving!
Needles Then...
and Now
Our faithful Sentinel! Thanks, Needles.
Today's post came to me this morning while I was cleaning. Now, there are many things I was looking forward to when Lance and I got married. One of them was getting to spend all the holidays together -- especially Christmas, and how much fun it was going to be to decorate our own place in the traditional Yuletide fashion. I was also looking forward to all the fun household things we would get to buy, including my very first, very own vacuum cleaner. It isn't like I love vacuuming or anything, but there was something thrilling to me--perhaps because I have never owned one personally--in the very idea of choosing my own Staubsauger (German, literally "dirt sucker"). Lance and I finally decided on a fire-engine red Dirt Devil upright from the Home Depot.
So our first Christmas together was wonderful and our little apartment looked fabulously festive. After the holidays were over I was so sad to take down all the decorations and to denude our beautiful little Christmas pine tree whom we dubbed "Needles." However, that thoughtful Needles left us a lovely parting gift, namely, all of his needles all over the carpet. But never fear! My trusty dirt devil came to the rescue and I didn't really have a problem cleaning up. But Needles' gift was more far-reaching than any of us would have guessed. Even though there aren't any more needles in the carpet (although I will admit that Needles himself is still sitting outside our doorway), and we've already unloaded all the dust and gunk from our vacuum, every time I've turned on the vacuum cleaner since then the effervescent aroma of pine wafts through the apartment. Now there's a gift that keeps on giving!
Needles Then...
and Now
Our faithful Sentinel! Thanks, Needles.
Monday, February 16, 2009
S.A.D. No Longer
I can still recall picking up a copy of the Daily Universe my sophomore year at BYU with a large color photograph of a few bitter, yet defiant looking students proclaiming February 14th as "S.A.D." Those of you who are not familiar with this acronym either 1.) Don't care a hoot about Valentine's Day (in which case you are probably male) 2.) Already have a significant other or 3.) Have never attended BYU and are therefore unfamiliar with its peculiar dating culture. Let me enlighten you: S.A.D. stands for "Singles Awareness Day," and anyone who has ever been lonely on the Day of Love knows that it can be very sad indeed. Although I will admit to being disappointed on February 14th, I have never been the embittered female/man hating/I'll-revel-in-my-singleness type, and instead for most of my life I have simply tried to tell myself that Valentine's Day is probably not all it's cracked up to be anyway.
This year, however, for the first time in my life, I had a Valentine-- and the day could hardly have been any better. In the morning we were able to attend the Provo Temple and then we braved the snow to buy groceries for our special dinner. In the afternoon we finally got around to returning some Christmas gifts at the Mall and then headed over to the movie theater to watch the new 3-D stop motion movie, Coraline.
Boy, 3-D movies sure have come a long way. Gone are the old paper glasses with the cellophane red and green lenses. We were handed what looked like sunglasses in their very own individually wrapped, sanitary plastic bags. The movie itself had a very interesting plot, and if anyone tries to tell you it's creepy-- believe them! But we enjoyed it nevertheless.
The credit for our dinner idea has to go to Mom and Dad, who gave us a fondue pot for Christmas. We made an oriental beef broth fondue and enjoyed cooking sirloin steak, shrimp, asparagus, yellow squash, broccoli, and baby bella mushrooms. And since there was only the two of us, we each got four forks--which makes the wait quite a bit shorter! We also had a couple homemade dipping sauces and cold bottled Apple Beer. To top it all off, we had homemade mint oreo milkshakes.
We exchanged small gifts and then fell asleep watching The Sword in the Stone. It was a wonderful day-- probably just because I got to spend it all with the person I love the most. So, in the end I have to say that Valentine's Day really is all it's cracked up to be once you've found that special someone, and I'm blessed to declare I'm S.A.D. no longer :)
This year, however, for the first time in my life, I had a Valentine-- and the day could hardly have been any better. In the morning we were able to attend the Provo Temple and then we braved the snow to buy groceries for our special dinner. In the afternoon we finally got around to returning some Christmas gifts at the Mall and then headed over to the movie theater to watch the new 3-D stop motion movie, Coraline.
Boy, 3-D movies sure have come a long way. Gone are the old paper glasses with the cellophane red and green lenses. We were handed what looked like sunglasses in their very own individually wrapped, sanitary plastic bags. The movie itself had a very interesting plot, and if anyone tries to tell you it's creepy-- believe them! But we enjoyed it nevertheless.
The credit for our dinner idea has to go to Mom and Dad, who gave us a fondue pot for Christmas. We made an oriental beef broth fondue and enjoyed cooking sirloin steak, shrimp, asparagus, yellow squash, broccoli, and baby bella mushrooms. And since there was only the two of us, we each got four forks--which makes the wait quite a bit shorter! We also had a couple homemade dipping sauces and cold bottled Apple Beer. To top it all off, we had homemade mint oreo milkshakes.We exchanged small gifts and then fell asleep watching The Sword in the Stone. It was a wonderful day-- probably just because I got to spend it all with the person I love the most. So, in the end I have to say that Valentine's Day really is all it's cracked up to be once you've found that special someone, and I'm blessed to declare I'm S.A.D. no longer :)
Thursday, February 5, 2009
What Do You Do?
What do you do on your day off when you have no kids to take care of and your best friend is busy doing school work? If you are me, you
1. Do crossword puzzles.
2. Pretend to be creative by attempting to be crafty (right now it's Valentine cards).
3. Do more crossword puzzles.
4. Go to the grocery store-- but only if the cupboards are bare and you are really craving ice cream.
5. Did I mention crosswords?
6. Call Mom.
What you don't do:
1. Write wedding thank-you cards which are almost six months overdue.
2. Clean.
3. Get up early and stay awake.
4. Check your work email (they might remind you of some responsibility you don't want to know about. Be warned: this is a particularly dangerous one-- only for those who like living on the edge).
5. Iron.
6. Exercise.
I'm sure I've just made you all suberbly jealous of my day-off routine. How is it that I can be blessed with so much free time and yet still manage to avoid doing anything useful? Trust me, if I could share some of it with you, I would. Of course, I would also remind you that on the days I do work, I really do work. This week I almost had to deliver another baby. The doctor was mulling around the nurse's station and then ran into the wrong room when the baby's head was poking out. I'm afraid I'm going to get a bad reputation at Orem Community Hospital!
Oh, and did I mention I need a new crossword puzzle book?
1. Do crossword puzzles.
2. Pretend to be creative by attempting to be crafty (right now it's Valentine cards).
3. Do more crossword puzzles.
4. Go to the grocery store-- but only if the cupboards are bare and you are really craving ice cream.
5. Did I mention crosswords?
6. Call Mom.
What you don't do:
1. Write wedding thank-you cards which are almost six months overdue.
2. Clean.
3. Get up early and stay awake.
4. Check your work email (they might remind you of some responsibility you don't want to know about. Be warned: this is a particularly dangerous one-- only for those who like living on the edge).
5. Iron.
6. Exercise.
I'm sure I've just made you all suberbly jealous of my day-off routine. How is it that I can be blessed with so much free time and yet still manage to avoid doing anything useful? Trust me, if I could share some of it with you, I would. Of course, I would also remind you that on the days I do work, I really do work. This week I almost had to deliver another baby. The doctor was mulling around the nurse's station and then ran into the wrong room when the baby's head was poking out. I'm afraid I'm going to get a bad reputation at Orem Community Hospital!
Oh, and did I mention I need a new crossword puzzle book?
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Catch Me If You Can
As anyone who is remotely familiar with the hospital labor/delivery scene will know, it's true that the nurse does practically everything until the MD shows up with the catcher's mitt. Well, a few weeks ago I got that "wonderful" experience that every L/D RN will have at least once (if not more) in her career. I got to catch the baby.
Now, I have delivered a baby once in nursing school... of course "Mom" was a mannequin with a mechanical track running down her back and baby was made of plastic. So, needless to say, it's nothing like the real thing. Real people are a lot... squishier, to name one difference. Anyway, it was a routine pitocin induction for a second time mom. Now, I may not have been working too long in this area, but I have learned a thing or two about when delivery time is close. With the epidural rate for women at IHC hospitals running about 90%, this can be a bit trickier. However, there are two good hints that baby is getting close: Mom complains of pressure (which the epidural cannot take away) and baby's heart beat slows down along with contractions and comes back up again.
Mom was as happy as a clam, epidural working perfectly. Admittedly it had been a while since her cervix had last been checked, but as baby looked great and there were no complaints of pressure, we just mosied along. When mom said she was feeling a tiny bit of back pain, and could she get a redose, I thought nothing of it. The anesthesiologist got her all nice and comfy and then I noticed that that baby just wouldn't stay on the monitor. I finally decided just to check the mom's cervix, thinking that we must be getting close. Apparently all that was holding that baby in was the fact that the mom's legs were closed, because as soon as I moved them, there was that bluish-black, gooey little head making his way into the wide world. As I am unfamiliar with the set up of these hospital rooms (therefore not knowing where the emergency button is) I had to run out to the nurses' station yelling, "She's crowning! She's crowning!"
I had just enough time to run back in and pull that baby out. The midwife got there pretty quickly after that... but all the fun was over by then! Fortunately both mom and baby were a-ok, and now I can say that I have delivered a baby with my own two hands. What a day!
Now, I have delivered a baby once in nursing school... of course "Mom" was a mannequin with a mechanical track running down her back and baby was made of plastic. So, needless to say, it's nothing like the real thing. Real people are a lot... squishier, to name one difference. Anyway, it was a routine pitocin induction for a second time mom. Now, I may not have been working too long in this area, but I have learned a thing or two about when delivery time is close. With the epidural rate for women at IHC hospitals running about 90%, this can be a bit trickier. However, there are two good hints that baby is getting close: Mom complains of pressure (which the epidural cannot take away) and baby's heart beat slows down along with contractions and comes back up again.
Mom was as happy as a clam, epidural working perfectly. Admittedly it had been a while since her cervix had last been checked, but as baby looked great and there were no complaints of pressure, we just mosied along. When mom said she was feeling a tiny bit of back pain, and could she get a redose, I thought nothing of it. The anesthesiologist got her all nice and comfy and then I noticed that that baby just wouldn't stay on the monitor. I finally decided just to check the mom's cervix, thinking that we must be getting close. Apparently all that was holding that baby in was the fact that the mom's legs were closed, because as soon as I moved them, there was that bluish-black, gooey little head making his way into the wide world. As I am unfamiliar with the set up of these hospital rooms (therefore not knowing where the emergency button is) I had to run out to the nurses' station yelling, "She's crowning! She's crowning!"
I had just enough time to run back in and pull that baby out. The midwife got there pretty quickly after that... but all the fun was over by then! Fortunately both mom and baby were a-ok, and now I can say that I have delivered a baby with my own two hands. What a day!
Monday, January 19, 2009
It's Official
Ladies and Gentlemen, we have officially joined the in-crowd-- or at least we have submitted our application. Thanks to my brother Tim, we now have our very own blog. From here on out we can publish the details of our very small lives to the world at large. Kind of scary, isn't it? I can't guarantee that it will always be worth the two minutes you'll spend browsing it while skimming through the lists of blogs linked to your own site, but at least it will give me something to do when I'm off work and Lance is busy studying. So, dear reader, press on if you dare!
Thursday, January 1, 2009
A New Blog For Heather and Lance!
You can delete this post as soon as you want. Just wanted you to get a feel for the blog. You can ask Cindy where she got her template if you don't like this one.
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